


Vestige of Honor

by carolej126



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolej126/pseuds/carolej126
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stake-out goes terribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vestige of Honor

Companionable silence fills the air, a dramatic change from the early hours of this stakeout where we discussed everything from football to Peruvian excavations. Blair is slouched down in his seat on the passenger side of my truck, engrossed in yet one more assignment that has to be finished by tomorrow morning. I'm dividing my time between sipping at the drink in my styrofoam cup and scanning the forest around us.

Finishing off the last drops of my still warm coffee with a decided lack of enthusiasm, I glance over at my partner. His coffee cup lies discarded next to him, as empty as my own.

While I'm not interested in more coffee, he might be, so I unscrew the top of our economy sized thermos to check the contents. There's barely enough to speak of, but I offer it anyway.

"More coffee, Chief?" Extending the almost empty container in his direction, I smile in invitation as his eyes leave the heavy text in his lap to focus on me. "There's not much left. Maybe a sip or two."

"Any more coffee and I'll float away," Blair admits with a grimace.

I can completely sympathize with that sentiment, and when I 'tongue-in-cheek' respond with, "I hear that," his eyes crinkle in amusement. But Blair's merriment doesn't last very long. As I watch, his smile slowly fades away. He's quiet for a moment, staring out into the almost impenetrable darkness that surrounds us before asking, "Anything yet?"

He's asked that question several times in the past few hours. I understand his growing impatience. After way too many hours of waiting for a couple of drug dealers who might make an appearance, I was ready to head for home as well. When a quick check of the area reveals only the muted whispers of night and nature, I shake my head. "Not yet."

A soft sigh escapes his lips, but he doesn't complain. Instead, his gaze drops back to his book.

It's no secret he's got better things to do with his time. University responsibilities have him burning the candle at both ends right now, and this stakeout isn't anyone's idea of fun. Of course, my suggestion that he stay home in order to finish his work was soundly rejected. He takes his role as my Guide very seriously.

I know I don't say it enough, societal expectations regarding men and emotions being what they are, but this time I'm compelled to voice my appreciation. "Hey, Chief? I'm glad you came."

He doesn't look up, doesn't respond, at least not right away. He doesn't need to. I see the flash of pleasure that crosses his face at my simple yet heartfelt words.

"Thanks, Jim," he finally murmurs in a surprised yet delighted tone.

That's all he says, just that one word of gratitude, but when I see him settle back into his studies with a contented smile on his face, I know my admission was well-worth it.

I spend another few minutes surveying the surrounding area, and as I do, I feel a cold breeze brush past my face from the partially open window beside me. The temperature of this late fall evening has dropped drastically since our arrival deep in the woods. Despite the fact that my perpetually cold partner's frame is covered with several blankets, I'm concerned. "Warm enough?"

With a reassuring grin, Blair gratefully strokes the soft fleece that encircles him. "Yeah, I'm fine. In fact, I'm so cozy I just might..." He breaks off abruptly, seeing my attention has shifted, caught by something outside his range of hearing. "Jim?"

When I don't answer immediately, he switches off the small penlight that had served to illuminate his work and twists around to face me. "Jim? What is it?"

"Company." That's all I need to say. He nods in comprehension and reaches out to rest his hand carefully on my shoulder. Without hesitation, I tilt my head to the side, focusing my hearing on the distant sounds, trusting Blair's touch to ground me. Listening to the conversation taking place almost a quarter of a mile away, I report, "Carver and Winslow have just arrived. Sounds like they've decided to move the drugs."

"Time to go?"

I have to chuckle at his enthusiasm, although, with thoughts of hearth and home, not to mention my bed, filling my head, I'm as eager to get this bust over with as he is. "Time to go. Let Simon know we're on our way."

Blair sets his book aside and picks up the cell phone as I step out of the truck to survey our path. When the call is completed, he joins me. As we make our way through the woods, I continue to monitor the two men within the old warehouse. Blair maintains a tight grip on the back of my jacket, and I know that he's finding it hard to see his way through the inky blackness of this moonless night.

"We could have parked a little closer, man," Blair grumbles as I lead him around a patch of thick brush.

"We were far enough away to keep us from being spotted, close enough for me to listen in on any conversations," I remind him patiently, knowing his complaint stems from the uneasiness of being virtually blind. "We're almost there." His sigh of relief at my reassurance brings a slight smile to my face.

I slow down when we approach the abandoned building, motioning toward the east side as I draw my gun. "Wait here while I take a look."

Leaving Blair by the door, still safely outside of the warehouse, I cautiously take a few steps inside, senses fully engaged.

My eyes have barely had time to sweep the room before a shrill metallic clang sends me to the cement floor in excruciating pain, hands over my ears. It's more than a minute before I can think clearly again. I know that I need to get up before my presence is discovered, but I'm struggling to move. Finally I'm able to push myself to my feet, and I reach for the gun that had fallen from my grasp.

"Leave it there, cop."

Turning at the sound of Carver's cold voice, my jaw clenches tight as I see that Winslow has his weapon pressed against my Guide's side.

I pull back slowly, reluctantly, the gun just inches from my outstretched fingers, and I dart a glance at Blair. His face is wearing a look of expectancy. I shake my head slowly, and his eyes drop to the ground for just a second before rising to meet mine again. In his blue eyes I see a defiance that matches my own. There's no way that our partnership, our journey, is going to end like this.

"Inside."

Blair is prodded forward, stumbling slightly on the doorstep, and I am forced to watch as he is herded into the cavernous warehouse. Carver waits until he is well inside before motioning me forward with the gun in his hand.

Winslow is waiting, watching, as I am directed to join my partner in the center of the room.

Carver's unflinching gaze skims over us. "Keep your mouths shut and put your hands behind your back," he directs, moving closer to my Guide and pressing his gun into Blair's neck to accentuate his words. "Now."

I obey quickly, trying to remain calm and focused as Winslow ties my wrists behind me. I can't lose control now, our lives, Blair's life, may very well depend on it. Carver is well known, with prior convictions for robbery and assault. His presence here is another sad commentary on both plea bargaining and our early release program. Winslow, he's the unknown player in this drama, the wild card. He's had his share of court appearances, but all were minor infractions. Will he choose to take the next step now that he's teamed up with Carver?

My own gun is pressed into my cheek as Winslow follows the same procedure with my Guide. As soon as Blair is securely bound, Carver tucks my gun into the waistband of his jeans. The cell phone, our lifeline, goes into his pocket.

"Get on your knees."

Blair's eyes go wide, and I see a curious blend of fear and trust as he silently gazes at me.

I lean over slightly as we comply, brushing Blair's shoulder with my own. I can feel his trembling, hear his harsh rapid breathing. "Hang in there, Chief," I whisper.

Making efficient use of a ragged blanket left on the floor, Carver rips off two long strips of material and hands them to Winslow. "Blindfold them."

The order sends shivers up and down my spine. His last victim, discovered bound and blindfolded, had barely survived a gunshot wound to the head. Is that to be our fate?

Winslow is unable to meet my gaze as he approaches, leading me to wonder if there is any remaining vestige of honor or conscience within him. Possibly, but if there is, will it be enough to stop him from committing murder? I swallow hard, hearing Blair's heartbeat increase to a frantic level, and turn my head slightly as the coarse cloth is wrapped around my head, but I'm unable to see anything.

There's a quiet shuffling of Winslow's feet as he moves to stand behind Blair, and I can hear the rustle of the cloth as my partner is similarly blinded.

We are left kneeling on the floor, restrained and blindfolded, as Carver and Winslow complete the job that we had interrupted. My mind is racing, determined to find a way of escape, but all too soon the noises taper off, and someone approaches our position.

"I'll pack the rest of this stuff while you do them."

Do them. Simple words that mask a terrible act, the murder of two men. Death in and of itself is a tragedy, but there's so much more involved here. Our deaths would mean the parting of friends, brothers, a Sentinel and his Guide. It would mean the end of all our shared hopes and dreams.

Carver chuckles softly and his tone is one of utter evil as he adds, "Here, use the cop's gun."

I flinch as the door closes with a bang, leaving us alone with Winslow, awaiting a death that now seems inevitable. My hands clench and unclench behind me as I wait for his next move.

"Jim." The whispered word comes from beside me, and my heart breaks at the pain, the fear, in that voice.

"I'm here, Chief," I murmur softly, feeling Blair's shoulders, his tense muscles, relax infinitesimally at my words. My ears track Winslow, his harsh breathing, the scraping of his shoes on the floor as he shifts his balance from one foot to the other. Who will be first? Will my next breath carry with it the scent of my Guide's blood? Or will I leave this life knowing that Blair is soon to follow?

Winslow's sudden deep breath is as loud as an explosion in the quietness. Fearing his choice has been made and my gun has been placed at my Guide's head, I do the only thing I can do. With a strength born of desperation, knowing I have to try to save him, I push off the floor in a backwards motion. My lunge takes me into Winslow's legs, but it's not enough. The force of the impact has simply driven him back a few steps, and I feel his hand grabbing my shoulder. He pushes me to the floor, and I land on my side, twisting to try to get my feet under me.

I have just rolled to my knees when I hear the sounds in quick succession. The clicking of a gun hammer, a trigger pulled, the resounding noise of a shot fired at close range.

Fully expecting to feel the deadly shattering of bone and tissue in retaliation for my actions, it takes but one agonizing second to realize that I was not Winslow's target. "No," I whisper soundlessly, dropping from my knees to curl into a tight ball on the floor. Emotions flood through me, seeking their release, but I clamp down, choosing instead to feel only a hollow emptiness.

The gun fires again and I briefly wonder if that bullet, unbeknownst to me, has made its way into my body. Perhaps I am already dead, my life having come to an end at the very moment that my Guide was taken from me.

Then I hear it, a pain-filled sound that fills me with both astonishment and wonder.

"No... Jim."

I shake my head, questioning my own sanity, then hear it again, that soft, plaintive voice.

"Oh, God... Jim."

Taking a shuddering breath, I find the strength to answer. "Chief?" My voice is as quiet and plaintive to my ears as his. "Chief?"

"J-Jim? You're still alive?"

Blair's voice is strained, his breathing ragged, and I want to reassure him, tell him that everything will be fine, but the danger isn't over. Winslow is still behind us. Is this some kind of sick game? Are we just being teased and taunted with an additional minute of life before he fires the fatal shots?

Winslow clears his throat, and I hold my breath. "Dealing drugs is one thing," his low voice quietly proclaims from behind me. "But murder, that's something else. I ain't doing it." There's a brief pause before he adds, "Don't come out 'til we're gone."

In disbelief, I hear his footfalls moving away from us, and the door opens and closes with a soft click. I am stunned, frozen in place, as the reality of our deliverance sweeps over me, and I feel Blair collapse against my side.

"Oh, Jim."

"It's all over now, Chief. It's all over. Let's get these ropes off, okay?"

I maneuver myself back to my knees and position myself against his back, resting my bound hands against his.

"Use your sense of touch. Feel the ropes around my wrists," Blair instructs shakily when I hesitate. "You can do it."

He's right. Closing my eyes in concentration, it is but a few minutes before we're both untied. Turning to face my Guide, I remove both blindfolds before I reach out to wrap my arms around him, tucking his head under my chin. He sighs, pulling me closer as his hands go around my back. I'd like to stay like this, reassured and reassuring, but duty calls.

I lift my head, letting him go, and smile as his gaze swings up to meet mine. My throat tightens when I see that his eyes are bright with unshed tears. "You okay, Chief?"

A tremulous smile appears on Blair's face and he willingly allows me to help him to his feet. "Yeah. I'm fine." He takes a deep, settling breath before asking, "Now what?"

"Now we..." I cut off as he grabs my arm warily, his smile vanishing, when we hear a muffled noise from the woods outside.

"They are gone, right?"

I retrieve my gun, laying discarded on the floor, before glancing out the door to confirm what I already know. Carver and Winslow are long gone. So are the drugs. I cover Blair's hand with my own, patting gently. "Yep. We need to call in a description of that truck."

"Simon must be frantic by now."

"Yeah, I'm sure he is. Ready to go?" I glance down at my partner, knowing I'm definitely ready.

Blair is quiet for a second, then he looks up at me with a wide grin. "So, now we've got to walk all the way back to the truck?"

Chuckling at his indignant tone, I wrap my arm around his back to pull him close to my side. As we start on our way, a smile teases at the corner of my mouth. While I'd never actually admit it out loud, after the experience we've just had, I'd be willing to crawl back to the truck as long as we do it together.

~end~


End file.
